


Try To Chase The Crazy Right Outta My Head

by Ricechex



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, M/M, POV First Person, Post Reichenbach, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricechex/pseuds/Ricechex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You should be glaring at me right now. You should be rolling your eyes at every word that’s coming out of my mouth. You should be telling me I’m ridiculous, you should be telling me that what I want right now is a product of intoxication and the close proximity we maintain.</p><p>You should be glaring at me. But you’re not. You should be telling me no.</p><p>But you’re not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try To Chase The Crazy Right Outta My Head

_Please, please, I need this, I just want to pretend for a little while, please._

 

* * *

 

I’m drunk.

You should be glaring at me right now. You should be rolling your eyes at every word that’s coming out of my mouth. You should be telling me I’m ridiculous, you should be telling me that what I want right now is a product of intoxication and the close proximity we maintain.

Flatmates.

Friends.

Partners.

I was supposed to be your assistant, wasn’t I?

I was never meant to be your friend. I was a doctor. I was a soldier. You could drag me along to crime scenes and no matter what I saw there, it wasn’t supposed to bother me.

Corpses never bothered me before.

Oh. I’m not just drunk. I’m _very_ drunk.

And I just want to know. I just want to try this. Please. Please, will you let me?

You should be glaring at me. But you’re not. You should be telling me no.

But you’re not.

My clothes are off and I don’t really remember taking them off. But I think you wanted this. I think you wanted me before now, wanted to take my clothes off and run your hands over me.

It’s alright. I did too. Still do. Please let me. I’ve wanted this for so long.

I’m not gay.

You might be.

Who the hell knows.

I don’t know.

I still want you. I want you to want me.

I want you to feel even half of what I feel for you. It would be a miracle, wouldn’t it?

If you knew how many times - what am I saying, of course you knew how many times, didn’t you? I’d step out of the shower and you’d be looking anywhere but at me, those mornings. You’d be very quiet, but not like you were thinking.

There were so many times I wondered if I could get your brain to shut down, just for a while. That would be something, wouldn’t it? Me, making _your_ brain stop its mad and incessant whirring. I liked to believe I could.

I want to find out. Would you let me? I think you would.

My clothes are off and I’m laying on a bed and _god_ those hands, those hands are even better than I’d ever imagined because they’re _real_ now. I used to run my fingertips over my own hips, my ribs, pretending they were yours.

I don’t care if you’ve never loved me. I just want to pretend that my feelings might be returned. That you might have grown to care for me in our time together.

Lovers?

No.

We’ve never been that. Did you want to be?

I imagined it so many times. I think it scared me. It scared me because I’d never really wanted that with a man before. And everyone assumed, and that scared me even more.

It was like every thought I’d ever had about you was written on my face, for everyone to see.

I don’t want them to see this. I want to be the only one who sees you, exactly as you are.

 

* * *

 

_Please, please, I need this, I just want to pretend for a little while, please._

_Come here, put your hands on me. Oh, god, kiss me, please, I need to feel your lips on mine, I need to know this is real and happening._

 

* * *

 

Did you ever think about me? Toss off in the shower like I did? Did you ever think about my mouth, about the way it would feel against your skin, against your lips?

Did you imagine me sucking you off?

I did.

I used to think about what your cock might look like, what it would feel like in my hands, my mouth...

I dreamed about fucking you.

About you fucking me.

Did you ever hear me? In my bedroom, right above you? I used to dream you’d creep upstairs, so quiet and careful. You’d listen to me in there. You’d hear me moaning your name, and maybe you’d come in. Cross the room, throw yourself onto me.

I’m not gay.

But that’s never mattered, has it?

Oh god. These hands on me are so warm, I never realized just how much warmth another person could really generate. Maybe it’s because we’re both drunk. Is that why you didn’t tell me now? Didn’t say this was ridiculous? You didn’t call me an idiot, you didn’t say I was being sentimental.

Maybe alcohol _is_ the answer, in this case, then.

Lips trailing up and down my torso, _christ_ , that feels amazing. All this time, maybe we could have been doing this. Maybe, if we’d gotten drunk after that first case, we’d have come home and collapsed onto each other, giggling like loons. You’d have grinned at me and I’ve have surged forward, kissed you. Made a joke about how that was a proper date.

You’d have stared at me, I think. You’d have watched me for a few seconds, then you’d have kissed me.

It would have been sloppy and messy and we’d have loved it, I bet.

Wasted time. Wasted opportunity.

I can pretend that it’s just after that first case, if I wanted to. I can pretend that we’ve had too much Chinese and far too many beers, and we’re running high off a cocktail of booze and adrenaline.

Oh, god, yes.

You never realize just how gorgeous you are. I want to make you realize it now.

I can feel it. My hands, my fingernails, digging into skin. It’s real, this is real. I want you. I want you so much. Kiss me. We’re drunk, just kiss me, it doesn’t matter. I’m not gay, but I want to feel you moving inside me. I want to kiss your Adam’s Apple as you swallow back a shout and fuck me until you come.

I’ve never done this before. Have you? You don’t seem the type to have done anything with anyone, but everyone’s curious. You’re more curious than most.

You don’t feel like a novice. Your hands are expertly finding each and every single nerve I have, my skin is on fire where you touch me and I never want you to stop.

Shit, do you even know how amazing you really are?

I’m so drunk, I’ve lost track of time, but I can feel a tongue on my balls now. I look down briefly before throwing my head back.

Oh god, your mouth, it feels incredible. If I could keep you there for hours, I would. You’ve done this before, haven’t you? You must have done. No one should be this good their first time.

 

* * *

 

_Please, please, I need this, I just want to pretend for a little while, please._

_Come here, put your hands on me. Oh, god, kiss me, please, I need to feel your lips on mine, I need to know this is real and happening._

_Oh Christ, yes, do that, please don’t stop, never stop touching me, please._

 

* * *

 

I’m close, so close, you have to stop or I’ll...

Thank-you. I wasn’t ready yet, not yet. I’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t imagine. I didn’t want this to be over yet. I want you here for as long as I can.

You’re pressing a bottle of lube into my hands. _Slick your fingers. I want to watch you_. Oh, alright, yes. I can do that.

It’s cold, but you don’t seem to mind when I arch up a bit, your eyes taking in everything about me. I’ve never done this, I’m probably doing it all wrong.

You’re moaning softly at the foot of the bed. That’s a good sign, right?

I look down at you from between my knees. You’ve got your hand on your cock and you’re biting your lower lip. Definitely a good sign, then. I smile and tease you; tease myself. I put more lube on my fingers and then push one in.

 _Oh_.

This is different. This... it’s not bad, it’s... oh.

Your hand is going faster now. Don’t you dare finish yourself like that. Don’t you dare. I’ve waited, and you will not bloody finish like that.

I slip another finger inside myself, gasping. I can hear the condom wrapper. Good. I want this, _oh god_ I want this. Please, please.

You’re right there now, right between my thighs and I can feel your cock brushing against mine as you pull my hand away. I feel myself wiping my hand on the sheets but I don’t care, we can wash those later. Your hand is there now, fingers slippery as you push three of them into me. I can feel them curl against-

 _Christ Almighty_ , I have no idea where you learned to do that but fucking hell, please do it again.

You twist your fingers, slowly, gently, and I can feel what you’re doing - you’re stretching me, making it easier for us both. Yes, please.

I’m very, very drunk.

I heard that this is supposed to hurt. But it doesn’t. Probably because I’m drunk. Most of my body is pleasantly numb right now, except for the scorching heat that seems to come wherever your hands are.

None of this hurts. But all of it hurts. Does that make any sense? Of course not.

Sentiment.

I wanted this for so long. Why didn’t we? You wanted me, I’m sure of it.

I’m not gay, you know. But you’ve made me redefine so many of my former ideas about myself, what’s one more, really?

And there it is. I can feel your cock right against me. I’m begging you, squirming and desperate here beneath you. I want this. Take this from me. Please, I’ve waited for so long.

You push in slowly, and my mind blanks. You should make some scathing remark about that not being a terribly difficult task.

I’m an idiot, remember?

Practically everybody is.

I can feel your hips against me, you’ve sunk into me entirely and I barely remember it. No, I need to focus, I need to feel this and remember this because I don’t know if I’ll ever get this chance again.

You start moving, and I swear I’m coming apart in shreds. It’s slow and steady at first.

I’m staring into your eyes and you’re staring back at me. What do you see?

 

* * *

 

_Please, please, I need this, I just want to pretend for a little while, please._

_Come here, put your hands on me. Oh, god, kiss me, please, I need to feel your lips on mine, I need to know this is real and happening._

_Oh Christ, yes, do that, please don’t stop, never stop touching me, please._

_I want you to fuck me, oh god, just fuck me, I want you to make me scream your name, can you do that? I bet you can. Please._

 

* * *

 

You’re incoherent right now.

I’ll consider that an accomplishment.

Will you whisper my name when you come? Will you shout it? Scream it?

I want you to scream. I want to make you come undone. You’re incoherent - that’s a good start.

You’re moving so much faster now, your hand on my prick, stroking me in time with your thrusts, the head of your cock bumping my prostate and _jesus shit fuck_ this feels better than anything else I’ve ever known. _You_ feel better than anything else.

I’m so close. I think you are too. I can feel you, your hips are starting to spasm slightly.

Fuck me and scream for me. I’ll scream for you. I’ll do anything for you, you know that, don’t you?

You’re slowing down. You don’t want to end this yet, do you? Good. Neither do I.

I want you for as long as I can possibly have you.

You pull out and grab the lube. I watch your hand disappear behind you, hear you groan as you-

Oh. Yes, god, yes, I want to do that, please.

You reach back and hand me a condom. I don’t even know where you keep grabbing these from and I don’t care.

I’m drunk. Is that why you’re letting me do this? Are you still as drunk as I am? I think you are, but I can never tell how drunk someone else is when I’m wasted too.

I get the condom on, and before I know it, your hand is on me, sliding over me, and then you’re straddling my hips. You must have done this before, because you sink down onto me in one fluid motion.

Shit.

Now you’re moving, hands gripping the headboard and I swear this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

I’m not gay.

Maybe I am, though. Does it work like that? Does it take just one bloke to walk into my life and suddenly I’m not who I thought I was before? I don’t know.

You’d laugh at me if you heard my thoughts. You’ve never bothered with labels. Maybe I shouldn’t either. Maybe it’s the world who wants us labeled, set away in our own little corners where we can’t bother anyone else. They could shove us in tins and sell us by the dozen, if it were that easy.

Maybe labels are what we got wrong.

Flatmates.

Friends.

Partners.

We were always more than that. More than the sum of our parts.

I’m fucking up into you now, wanking you like you did me, and I feel it, it’s right there. I’m going to scream for you, you know that. I don’t care if the whole world hears. Fuck them all.

You’re there, too. I can feel you just as you come, clenching around me, and it pushes me over the edge. I’m coming and my eyes are squeezed shut and I’m screaming your name.

_Sherlock!_

_Jim!_

I open my eyes.

 

* * *

 

_Please, please, I need this, I just want to pretend for a little while, please._

_Come here, put your hands on me. Oh, god, kiss me, please, I need to feel your lips on mine, I need to know this is real and happening._

_Oh Christ, yes, do that, please don’t stop, never stop touching me, please._

_I want you to fuck me, oh god, just fuck me, I want you to make me scream your name, can you do that? I bet you can. Please._

_I know you’re not him but right now I just need to pretend. Can I pretend with you? I don’t care if you want to pretend with me, too, I just need this right now._

 

* * *

 

It's awkward now.

I’m on my side, not looking at him. I was drunk.

I’m a lot more sober now.

I loved you.

And you jumped off a building. You left me. I should hate you, but I still love you. Still want you. I want you to waltz through that damn door and laugh at me for being stupid.

Laugh at me for being sentimental.

He’s laying on his back.

We are not touching.

We both know who the other is, now. Well, I know who he is.

He’s known who I am.

Doesn’t matter. You’re gone. I saw you.

Corpses don’t bother me.

But yours did. Because I was in love with you. Still am, let’s face it.

You left me and I felt like dying.

Why did you do it? I wish I could ask you.

You’re gone. He’s gone. We’re alone. Maybe that’s why we did this.

You’d laugh at me. Roll your eyes. _Dull._

Maybe. But he’s real. He’s here. You’re not. I didn’t want you to leave. I wanted you here with me.

I was going to be with you forever, you know. The world’s only consulting detective’s loyal blogger. I would never have left. I don’t think it was possible.

He’s moving now. Sitting up. I can hear him getting his clothes together, getting dressed.

It should have been you. But you left me and now it’s him. Why was it him. He saw me in the pub. Came over to chat.

He said he’d read about you. Read my blog. I bet he did. Bet it was research.

But none of that matters now, does it? Because you’re both dead and we’re stuck here picking up our lives.

You’re both selfish bastards, to do this to us. I can see that. It's clear as day.

I sit up. I can feel it all now. It aches, but that’s a good thing. The pain reminds me of reality.

You were a fantasy. Unattainable. Maybe that’s why I wanted you so much.

Maybe you wanted me too. I don’t know.

I’m not gay. I keep saying that, don’t I? Well, it’s true. I’m not gay.

But I don’t think I’m straight either.

Fuck me.

He’s sitting down next to me now. We’re not speaking. I look over at him. He looks as lost as I feel.

And then he kisses me again.

It’s soft, it’s tender. His hand comes up to cup my cheek and my hands move automatically to run my fingers through his hair.

We sit there, him completely dressed and me still starkers, just kissing.

It’s nice.

He whispers something against my lips. _Can I... can I see you again?_

I sigh into him. _Yes. Of course you can._

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this idea came from. Written in First Person, which is not something I usually do, but this popped into my head and I thought, "Well why the frak not?"
> 
> So here's John/Moran, and John wishing it was Sherlock, and Moran wishing it was Moriarty.
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed it - it was very interesting to write, especially from the First Person POV.
> 
> [ **Title from, "Echo," by Jason Walker.** ]


End file.
